


I shut my eyes, and I curl up small

by custardpringle



Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers
Genre: Gen, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/custardpringle/pseuds/custardpringle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had been a lot of shouting and commotion for the first few weeks, and Gherkins-- ecstatic at the addition of a real live madman to the household-- had done his utmost to investigate; but in the face of more urgent and festive concerns, the matter had eventually ceased to be of any great interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I shut my eyes, and I curl up small

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [](http://hhertzof.livejournal.com/profile)[**hhertzof**](http://hhertzof.livejournal.com/), bless her; title courtesy of A.A. Milne. Deals with shellshock, if such things are a concern for you.

It was January, a particularly bleak time for small boys everywhere. Christmas had slipped past too quickly, as it always seemed to, and even the bounty produced by that holiday had shed its novelty and become commonplace among all the older toys; one's birthday, meanwhile, was a distant glimmer of hope six unimaginably long months off. The outdoors had even failed to provide any snow, only frost and an oppressive cold, and when Gherkins could charm his nurse into escorting him out to visit the dogs they too were lethargic and irritable.

Worst of all, the household appeared to have been ruffled by some event that was, inexplicably, _not_ centered about him. Nurse had said something to the effect that he was going to be someone's brother, and won't that be nice, my pet? but Gherkins-- who had been an only child for nearly half a decade, and could not really conceive of being otherwise-- felt safe in his assumption that she had spoken merely in jest. He resented the whole business on principle, however, on the grounds that a lot of furniture was being shuffled about his nursery and his mother had distinctly _smiled_ once last week and no one had had the common decency to tell him honestly what the fuss was all about.

Thus cruelly neglected, Gherkins found himself one day wandering the house with only a large stuffed rabbit wedged firmly under his arm for company; the rabbit was better than no one at all, certainly, but for conversational purposes the squeaker in its stomach left something to be desired. He was only just beginning to entertain the dangerous thought that there might be some benefit to having siblings after all when he realized that his explorations had brought himself (and the rabbit) up outside the rooms currently occupied by his Uncle Peter.

Uncle Peter was not a _new_ fixture, precisely. He had arrived a few months ago and been installed safely as far as possible from all other members of the household-- either to protect him from disturbance by everyone else or the other way round, according to various staff who had tried to explain the situation to Gherkins. There had been a lot of shouting and commotion for the first few weeks, and Gherkins-- ecstatic at the addition of a real live madman to the household-- had done his utmost to investigate; but a rather terrifying person called Bunter had firmly discouraged him, and things had gotten quieter eventually and thus less intriguing. In the face of more urgent and festive concerns, the matter had eventually ceased to be of any great interest. But Bunter appeared to be nowhere near at the moment, and the opportunity for Gherkins to satisfy his curiosity was too much to resist. With a whispered admonishment to his rabbit about the dangers of injudicious squeaking, he crept courageously forth and reached up with his free hand to work the doorknob.

The sitting-room within looked just about like a sitting-room ought to, to Gherkins' surprise; upon contemplation he could never have said just what a madman's sitting-room _ought_ to have looked like, but certainly not so very ordinary. It appeared at first to be unoccupied, but as he moved cautiously further into the room he became aware that it was uncomfortably hot. The fire was built absurdly high in the fireplace, even for January, and the heat weighed ominously on his shoulders as he peered about.

From the depths of an armchair near the fire, someone coughed feebly and inquired, "Sergeant?"

Something squeaked in alarm; it must have been the rabbit, Gherkins decided immediately, because he himself was _far_ too big and brave to do any such thing. "Er," he said helpfully.

"Who's there?" The chair rustled as its occupant made a half-hearted effort to peer behind himself; Gherkins glimpsed part of a pale narrow face, and blond hair not unlike his own. It was a little strange to be so vividly reminded that this person was meant to be part of his own family.

Gathering up all the courage he possessed, and perhaps a bit more, Gherkins marched determinedly the rest of the way across the room to present himself properly to his newly-discovered relation. "It's only me," he announced tremulously; he had been taught to shake hands when introducing himself to adults, but this particular adult didn't seem inclined towards handshaking. "Gherkins," in case his uncle hadn't known about him either.

The man before him was certainly not a terribly impressive candidate for unclehood, in Gherkins' expert estimation. He was drawn and pale and huddled under a quantity of blankets of which the sight alone, combined with the roaring fire at Gherkins' back, made the boy want to fidget uncomfortably. "I thought you were Sergeant Bunter." He peered uncertainly down at Gherkins from beneath his accumulated upholstery. "You haven't seen him anywhere about, have you?"

"No," said Gherkins truthfully enough, and dug one toe into the carpet. "Ought I to go find him for you?"

Lord Peter sank a little more deeply into his chair with such ease that Gherkins feared briefly that he would melt into it and vanish entirely. "No," he concluded, after what seemed to be a great deal of effort. "Bunter's a good man; he won't have gone far. He's going to come work for me, you know, if the War ever ends."

Gherkins, who had received a great deal of instruction on the subject of disagreeing with his elders, opened and shut his mouth fruitlessly and clutched more tightly at his rabbit. "I see?"

The rabbit squeaked faintly in protest at its rough treatment, and seemed to spark some degree of attention from Lord Peter; he narrowed his eyes at Gherkins for a moment, but only observed sadly, "You're very young."

This at least, Gherkins felt, was beyond debate; certainly in comparison to Uncle Peter, who looked like just about the oldest man there had ever been.

"Doesn't that noise frighten you?" His uncle shifted in the chair, appearing to curl in on himself further beneath the mound of blankets; his eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, and Gherkins automatically looked there with him, without the faintest idea what he was meant to be looking for.

Gherkins looked back and forth once more, and then up and down for good measure, but found himself unenlightened. "What noise?"

"The shells," said Lord Peter nervously. "They're bombing our boys to hell down the line that way; can't you _hear_ it?"

Gherkins did his best not to giggle-- either at the profanity or at his own nerves. "I hear it," he agreed, still disinclined to argue; but his uncle's alarm was so palpable that the boy began to fancy he heard some sort of distant commotion himself. "Perhaps they won't hit us?"

"The young ones always think that," said Uncle Peter, and shivered.

\-------

It was well past teatime before the young viscount was seen again; and even then it was largely by accident, a passing footman having heard muttering from within a dumbwaiter and opened the door to reveal St. George huddled within, wearing a pudding bowl jammed low over his ears and the fiercest expression a boy his size could muster. "No," he said instantly, with an anxiety that belied his expression. "No, leave me be, the _Germans_ \--"

"Here now," said the footman, much bewildered, "better come out of there, my lord, you've missed your tea and sent your poor nurse half off her head."

"Shan't." Gherkins yanked the bowl down lower until it threatened to obscure his vision. "Uncle says to get--" he hesitated over the words-- "to keep under cover, in case of bombs. You should get in too," he added generously, with an effort to make himself even smaller. "It isn't _safe_."

"Your uncle says, does he?" The footman, who was rather solidly built, considered his chances of fitting into the dumbwaiter with a restless four-year-old and a large stuffed rabbit and decided he didn't think much of them at all. "Did he also tell you you can't fight Germans if you ain't properly fed?"

Gherkins frowned suspiciously up from under his bowl. "No?"

"Well, you can't." The footman offered an optimistic hand. "Come along, now, just long enough to get a few biscuits in you, and then you can stay safely out of sight 'till suppertime."

All the same, Gherkins proved immovable; at last the footman resorted to a tactic more suited to his own specialty within the household, and removed the boy bodily from the dumbwaiter. His cargo kicked and protested all the way back to the nursery but cheered up, quite suddenly if not unexpectedly, at the sight of food.

Gherkins kept half an ear out for shells for several days afterwards, though-- just in case.


End file.
